Pumpkin Head
by embroiderama
Summary: Dean turns into a pumpkin. That makes him a little cranky.


Title: Pumpkin Head

Author: embroiderama

Characters: Dean, Sam (gen)

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: much bad language

Spoilers: none

Word Count: 1386

Disclaimer: None of the Winchesters belong to me, alas.

Summary: Dean turns into a pumpkin. That makes him a little cranky.

Note: This was written for iamstealthyone's prompt on spnhalloween. Thank you to missyjack for the great, quick beta job!

Sam sat behind the wheel of the Impala, trying to look straight ahead, keeping his eyes away from his brother sitting in the passenger seat. "So, back to the room, I guess."

"Yeah, whatever."

At Dean's sullen tone, Sam couldn't help but glance over at him, still half-expecting to see arms crossed in front of Dean's chest below his glowering expression. Sam shook his head at the sight in front of him and turned back to look at the road.

"It's just for tonight. It'll be o--"

"Don't even," Dean cut him off. "Dude, this is so fucked up."

Sam looked back over at the pumpkin sitting in the passenger seat. "Yeah, you're telling me. I'm the one talking to a pumpkin."

"I'm the one who is a pumpkin, asshole. Damn that witch to fucking hell. I'm serious man, when I get my body back I'm going to bust a clip in her wrinkled, old ass."

Sam stifled a laugh and looked back over at the form sitting next to him--a pumpkin measuring a little over a foot across, ordinary in every respect except for the fact that his brother's features protruded from the front, looking as though they had been molded into the orange flesh.

"And goddamnit!" Dean continued his rant. "It feels like I can't move my fucking arms and legs!"

"You don't have any arms or legs, man."

"No shit, jackass!"

Sam tried not to take Dean's anger personally. After all, he probably wouldn't be too happy either if he found himself transformed into a squash. Sam took a corner too sharply, and Dean was shouting again.

"Whoa! Whoa!" The sound was muffled as the pumpkin rolled across the seat, settling against Sam's hip for a second before rolling back to thump against the passenger side door. "Ow! Fuck! Goddamnit!"

Sam cringed, wondering if he should try to figure out a way to get the pumpkin into the seatbelt. It would go right across his face, but at least it might shut him up. "Sorry! You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, just peachy."

"A little bigger than a peach there, Dean." Sam couldn't help himself.

"After I get that witch, you are so next."

Sam took another turn, and this time rested his right hand on the top of the pumpkin, holding it steady on the seat.

"Thanks," Dean grumbled when they were through the turn. "Hey, you can take your hand off my stem now, grabby hands."

"Well, I wouldn't want you to get smashed. Seeds and pulp would be hell to get off the upholstery."

"Shut up. Are we almost there?"

"You know you sound like you're three, man. _'Are we there yet?'_"

"Yeah, funny. When was the last time _you_ couldn't see over the dashboard?"

Sam tried to remember being that short. Failed. "Yeah, okay, point taken. Motel's about a block up ahead."

"Finally. It's making me sick, rolling around in here."

Sam held onto the pumpkin again as he pulled into the parking lot. Once he had the car in park, he reached back over and grabbed the stem to pull Dean out of the car.

"Hey! Hey! That feels like you're dragging me up by my hair, you freak."

Sam slipped his free hand underneath the pumpkin's bottom, wondering what exactly that felt like to Dean. "You might want to think about who exactly is the freak in this situation."

"Fuck you."

"Sorry, I don't do produce."

"Yeah, you're real funny, smartass. Just get me inside."

"Yes, sir, oh Great Pumpkin." Sam slammed the Impala's door shut behind him and walked to the motel room door. He wrapped his left arm around the pumpkin, holding it into his side as he pulled the key card out of his pocket and slid it into the lock.

"Hey, get your big hand off my face!" Dean's voice came out muffled, but Sam had to stop himself from dropping the pumpkin in shock at the feeling of its flesh moving against his hand as Dean's mouth spoke.

The door buzzed open, and Sam moved his hands back to the top and bottom of the pumpkin, pushing the door open with his hip. "Bed or dresser?"

"Dresser. I'm sick and tired of rolling around, man."

"I could always put you outside the door like a jack-o-lantern."

"Yeah, and I could always kick your ass tomorrow morning."

Sam set the pumpkin down on the dresser and sat down on the bed across from it. Now that he had enough light to see clearly, he examined the pumpkin. As Dean's angry features moved, the orange skin of the pumpkin twisted--an arching eyebrow there, a curling lip there. It was all orange, even the eyes.

"Stop staring at me and figure out how to fix this."

"Dean, I'm sorry, but I think we just have to let it play out. Her Latin went by kind of fast, but I'm pretty sure she said you'd be transformed for the duration of Halloween night. At dawn, you should be back to normal."

"Yeah, that's just great. How long until sunrise?"

"About six hours."

"Son of a bitch. You have no idea, Sammy, how wrong it is not to have a body."

"Hey, it might keep you out of trouble."

"I'm serious, if this was going to last any longer I think I'd go crazy."

"I guess we could always try to find you a body," Sam offered.

"Great. You'd probably make one out of sticks like that pumpkin guy in those stupid comics you read in high school."

"They were graphic novels!"

"Yeah, whatever."

"Anyway, I was thinking more along the lines of the headless horseman."

"Only if I could have a motorcycle instead of a horse."

"Man, my legs would never fit in a sidecar."

"Yeah, well, suck it up! At least you're not a pumpkin!"

"It's not my fault you insulted that witch!"

"Yeah, yeah, 20/20 hindsight, man. I swear to god, this is driving me crazy. My ass itches, and I don't have any hands."

"Or an ass."

"Don't remind me. I'm hungry, too, but I don't even have a stomach."

"Yeah," Sam laughed, "I'm getting hungry, too. Know what I'm in the mood for?"

Dean narrowed his eyes into orange slits. "Don't say it, little brother."

Sam grinned. "Pumpkin. Pie."

"You know how many ways I could kill you?"

"Mmmm," Sam continued, ignoring the threat. "With whipped cream on top. But not in a kinky way, man."

"You're going to pay for that," Dean growled. He sat quietly for a moment, and with his features still he looked almost like a regular pumpkin. "Look, if I can't move I might as well sleep." His orange lips stretched into a yawn and his orange eyelids slid closed over his orange eyes. "See you at dawn," he mumbled.

Sam washed up and got ready for bed, setting the alarm in his phone for just before dawn. With a last look to make sure pumpkin-Dean wasn't staring at him, he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

When the alarm went off five hours later, he turned on the light and sat up to see that Dean was awake, too. His features looked tense, even beyond the strange setting of the pumpkin skin. "You think you're going to be naked when you transform back?"

"Man, as long as I get my own body back I don't much care."

Sam walked over to the window and opened the heavy drapes so that they could see dawn approaching. When the sky began to lighten, Sam turned around and saw that the pumpkin appeared to be levitating. No, it was rising up as something bulged out from the bottom.

The bulge grew into the shape of a neck and shoulders, widening into a chest, stretching into a torso and arms, lengthening into legs and feet. Sam looked up from Dean's body, which was in fact naked, to see his head, fully formed now but still orange, and then the color faded away, too.

Dean stood up from where he sat on the dresser and looked down at his hands, flexing and relaxing them in turn. He smiled at Sam and took a step toward him before reaching up and smacking Sam on the side of the head.

"Hey!"

"That was for the crack about the pie."


End file.
